12 Days of Fitzsimmons
by TheLittleRipper
Summary: Twelve unrelated Fitzsimmons Christmas fics, posted over twelve days of Christmas. Based on prompts from Tumblr.
1. My Home and My Heart

**Ho ho ho! It's been a while since I've posted any stories on this site. My last fandom was _Pitch Perfect_ and if any of you know me from there, I feel really bad that I never finished my stories but there's hardly any inspiration there anymore. Sorry.**

**So moving on to a new fandom, I've become _obssessed_ with Fitzsimmons. Like, I haven't shipped this hard since Forwood, and that is seriously saying something. And in the spirit of the holiday season, I give to my fellow Fitzsimmons shippers 12 Christmas Fitzsimmons fics, as prompted by people on Tumblr (I'm still accepting prompts. If you have any, please leave it in my Tumblr ask, _meowl-mittens _:D). Now, let's get on with the story, shall we?**

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**Prompter: supeaunaturelle**

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**My Home and My Heart**

"I dunno, Simmons. I think I might give Christmas a miss this year."

He realizes too late that he probably should have said that _before_ she had picked up her hot chocolate, the poor girl's hands jerk violently enough for her to nearly drop her mug.

"I-I'm sorry, I must've mistakenly heard you say you were going to _give Christmas a miss_?"

He shrugs as nonchalantly as he can manage, showing no sign of fear. "You heard right."

It's at this point that Simmons starts turning a little pink in the face. "But why?! Why and how in the bloody world could you even think such a thing!"

"Well, I just don't see the point since we'll be on a plane and all! The Bus isn't exactly what you'd call a festive place."

Simmons crosses her arms over her chest and pouts as if she were a little girl being denied a cookie from the cookie jar. It's not right, she thinks. Fitz has never really been the most enthusiastic person, excluding anything science-related, but since their days at the Academy, the holidays had always brought out the better-tempered side of him. The only person who got more excited than Fitz over Christmas was herself.

"We can put up decorations, bake cookies, cook our Christmas meal for the team, it's tradition!"

"Traditions change, Simmons," he tells her. He knows putting up with her reaction is a necessary evil, but it's one he'd like to be done with. She's both overreacting and not overreacting, if that makes sense to anyone but himself.

She's gaping at him and he's not sure whether he wants to give in or to laugh. _Poker face, Fitz. You didn't win a game against _Ward_ of all people for nothing_.

"Fine then," she says after a beat, giving him what he knows is her best I'm-pretending-not-to-care-to-get-my-way face. She stands up to leave, taking her mug with her, and he just _knows_ that there will be hell to pay for what he's just done. _Necessary evil_, he reminds himself.

_Necessary evil, necessary evil._

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It's been three days and Jemma Simmons is still unamused.

She hasn't been ignoring him per se, being partners stuck in a lab nearly 24/7 made it damn near impossible to do so, but she's certainly been testy. Every question he asks is answered with as few syllables as she can manage, whenever he beckons her over to see a new discovery, she mumbles some excuse about being busy, and she's been timing her meals in a way that she eats with anyone except him.

He hadn't calculated this. He's known Simmons for years and had spent so much time with her that he knows her mannerisms, her emotions and reactions better than his own. He had estimated her to feel frustrated, to make a few petty remarks and give him a glare every now and then.

It's Christmas Eve and May's landed the Bus is Portland, per Coulson's orders. Their boss is apparently quite fond of the symphony and had bought everyone tickets, in lieu of a traditional Christmas dinner, to a show. Before Simmons can even think about avoiding him, Fitz takes his seat next to her. It's tension-filled, and for the first thirty minutes he can't stop glancing at her and hoping she'll glance back, but by the end of the concert, they're walking side by side, close enough for Simmons to press her arm against his, the way she always does when she's cold.

They trail behind the rest of the team in comfortable silence, the kind that he's missed since he'd upset her.

When they get back to the Bus and they bid the rest of the team goodnight, Fitz goes to the kitchen and to heat up water for two cups of tea. It's presumptuous, considering that Simmons hasn't actually spoken to him yet, but she's in the couch surfing channels on the TV, and he figures it's a good sign that she doesn't mind them being alone someplace other than the lab.

When the tea is ready, Fitz sets the mug down on the coffee table in front of Simmons. She gives him a look and doesn't say a word, but she picks up the tea and scoots over for him to sit next to her on the couch. They take a few sips in silence.

"I am sorry, Jem," he murmurs, so low that Simmons isn't sure if she'd actually heard him say it. "I didn't think it'd upset you as much as it did."

With the way she's looking at him, Fitz knows, she doesn't have to say anything. All is forgiven and he's glad of it.

"I know," she says, sighing heavily. "I just don't understand why you don't want to celebrate Christmas in the first place."

"You know why," he whispers. "We love Christmas because it's the one time of the year that we get to go home. Christmas traditions are home traditions."

"I miss them too," Simmons says, moving closer to rest her head on Fitz's shoulder. "But we _are_ home. At least I am."

Fitz smiles at that and rests his head atop Simmons'. They stay like that for a while, occasionally sipping at their tea. It's almost midnight when Simmons gets up from the couch and decides to call it a night. Fitz watches her as she disappears into her bunk, and thinks about how much colder the plane feels now that his partner isn't next to him.

He waits for the alarm on his phone to signal midnight before he gets up from the couch and collects the mugs of tea, leaving Simmons' in the sink and filling his own with fresh coffee.

Time to get to work.

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It's the cookies that wake Jemma up the next morning. That and the hot chocolate—rich, real tablea chocolate, not the artificial powdered kind. The scent is unmistakable as she blinks away the last traces of sleep from her eyes and gets up from bed to investigate.

She opens her bunk door to find the rest of the Bus fully-transformed. Colorful lights line the living area, each bunk has a wreath hanging on its door, there's a huge well-decorated tree complete with presents sitting underneath, and tinsel literally _everywhere_.

But ultimately, it's the windows that strike her the most. She doesn't see sky when she looks at them, what she sees is a holographic projection of snow. It's the same view of falling snow as what she used to see from the manor back in England where she grew up spending the holidays. If she had a hunch before, she had no doubts now as to who could have done all this.

"Good morning," she turns to find Fitz standing by the threshold of the kitchen, holding a large plate. She thinks she could probably see the dark circles under his eyes from across the plane.

He crosses the path to where Jemma is standing and holds up the plate to her. "Cookie?"

Wordlessly, Jemma picks up a badly drawn gingerbread man but makes no move to eat it. Instead she looks up, wide-eyed, at Fitz.

"I thought—"

"I lied," Fitz tells her, grinning cheekily. "Well, I wasn't lying when I said it, because I wasn't sure if I'd manage to get everything I needed, but the rest of the time…"

Jemma smiles at him then, and suddenly he doesn't feel like he cares that he didn't get any sleep last night. Her eyes are shining at him, and anything is worth seeing that.

"It's beautiful, Fitz," she tells him, "but how did you manage all this by yourself? And in one night! Did you sleep at all?"

He shrugs at her, and someone in the background speaks up. "No, but he did have some help."

They turn to find Coulson standing a few feet away, Skye grinning brightly next to him. "We helped with the decorations," she says. "But the idea was all Fitz, especially the—"

"—the windows," Jemma finishes, turning her attention back to Fitz. He's giving her that smug-but-adoring look that makes her head spin and butterflies to swarm in her stomach. He's been giving her that look a lot these past few months.

"If I couldn't bring you home for the holidays," he whispers, low enough so that only she can hear him, "I thought might as well bring home to you."

"_Thank you,_" she says, putting as much weight into the words as she can. They're pulled out of their little moment by someone clearing their throat, and are startled to find Ward standing close to them. The agent suppresses a groan as Skye nudges for him to lift his arm up higher above Fitzsimmons' heads.

And that's when they notice the thing in Ward's hand.

Mistletoe.

"My gift to you," Skye says to Fitz, grinning impishly as the Scot's face turns pink.

But before he can protest, he feels soft lips press lightly on the corner of his lips, and suddenly his head is spinning. He turns a darker shade of red and finds Jemma attempting to rival his blush with her own.

Fitz can't suppress his smile, despite the fact that next to him Skye is clapping her hands giddily like a child. Thankfully, May interrupts the scene by calling everyone to the tree—with as much of a smile as The Cavalry can smile—and announces that it's time to open presents.

The next hour is a flurry of ribbons and wrappers as everyone exchanges presents. Fitz surprises Jemma yet again with a box of gifts sent from her parents for the both of them. Everyone is laughing and festive, and Ward is only a little miffed at Skye's gift: a bright yellow smiley-face t-shirt. ("To add some color to your wardrobe," she said.) They eat cookies, drink hot chocolate, and Skype with Jemma parents.

By the time things mellow down, it's close to lunch and Fitz announces that for once he'll opt for sleep instead of food; he'll join them again for dinner and the _Doctor Who_ Christmas special. He enters his bunk and pulls out his blanket, and hears someone close the door behind them. His back is turned but he doesn't have to check to know who it is, so when everything's settled he lays on his bed and makes room for Jemma as she crawls into his arms and snuggles next to him.

They stay like that in silence; her head on his chest, his arms around her and their legs tangled together. It's calm and it's perfect and he can feel himself drifting out of consciousness when he hears Jemma's muffled voice.

"Merry Christmas, Leo."

He smiles and kisses the top of her head before closing his eyes.

"Merry Christmas to you too, Jem."

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	2. Searching for Presents Under the Tree

**Day 2 everyone! This is significantly shorter than the first one, so I'm sorry about that, but I hope you guys like it anyway!**

**I'm still accepting prompts. Just go to my bio, click on the link to my Tumblr, and leave them in my ask :)**

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**Prompter: anonymous**

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**Searching for Presents Under the Christmas Tree**

"Are ya bloody mad, Simmons? There's no way we're getting Ward anything remotely pink!"

"It's not that bad!"

"Not bad because it's not you he's going pummel if he sees that thing."

Simmons rolls her eyes but clicks the back button anyway. "You're overreacting, Fitz."

Fitz rolls his eyes back and blindly grabs a handful of pretzels from the bowl next to him. The two scientists are in Simmons' bunk, huddled over her laptop on the bed. It's two weeks until Christmas day and they've been on the Bus since December 1st. They plan on going shopping for presents as soon as they land—wherever they happen to land—and Simmons wants to have a good idea beforehand of what they'll be getting for the team.

For the past hour they've been looking through several different shopping sites, looking but not quite agreeing. So far the only thing they haven't bickered over was Coulson's gift: a new walkie-talkie watch that Fitz would be making himself. Everyone else's gifts had been a bit of a problem. They'd already put off Skye and May's gift options, and were now trying to sort out what Ward could possibly like.

Or not hate, as Fitz would say.

"Well what about that?" Fitz says, pointing to the screen.

"_Socks_, Fitz?!" Simmons scolds. She refuses to be one of _those_ people. "Why don't we just give him a Hallmark card then, and a gift certificate he'll never use!"

"You know, that actually doesn't sound like a bad idea—"

"Fitz!"

"Fine! What do _you_ suggest then?" he exclaims. He knows how Simmons is when it comes to gift-giving and the Christmas season. Everything has to be as _special_ as possible.

Simmons clicks through a few links, puffing air into her cheeks. "Uhh… A leather jacket?"

"Yeah, because what he needs is _another_ leather jacket to add to his collection."

She lets out an exasperated sigh. "Alright, fine! But we are not getting him anything so generic as _socks_," she says, spitting out the last word.

Fitz's gaze softens at that. Simmons loves Christmas, but the holiday also always put too much stress on her. "Why don't we go back to looking for May or Skye, set Ward aside for later, yeah?"

"Good idea," she nods. Simmons minimizes the window meant for "Ward options" and opens the window with "Skye options", since it has the least number of tabs open and looks much less threatening than May's.

"At least with Skye you can pick out something pink," Fitz mutters under his breath, and then says aloud, "You know what would be a gift that she'd appreciate though?"

"What?"

"If we got her restriction bracelet off."

"Fitz!" Simmons exclaims, and smacks him on his arm.

"I'm just saying!" he says, holding his hands up in defense. "You want to give her something special; that would be special."

"It would also be breaking the rules."

"Oh come on, you've broken the rules for Skye before."

Simmons raises her eyebrow at that, urging him to elaborate.

"You helped her hack into the Hub's mainframe, _and_ you shot Agent Sitwell."

He tries not to laugh when Simmons' eyes widen and her cheeks redden. She hardly considers that incident her finest moment, and feels mortified when someone brings it up.

"That doesn't count," she says, turning her gaze to her laptop. "And I didn't do it for her," she adds softly. "I did it for you."

It's Fitz's turn to blush now, and the air in the room is slowly reaching uncomfortable levels. "Well," he whispers, "you and Skye still make quite a bad girl team."

It would have sounded wrong had he said it to anyone other than Simmons, but the pretty biochemist simply rolls her eyes and resumes clicking through tabs.

"What about these?" Simmons says, and shows him a photo of little Avengers flash drives. "We can get her a Stark and a Thor, one from each of us."

"Yeah, that sounds good," he says, leaning in closer to get a good look at her laptop screen. "What about May?"

Simmons pulls up the "May options" window and frowns. It's even more difficult to find May a gift than Ward. "Does she ever even wear anything other than training clothes and field gear?"

"If she does, I've never seen it," Fitz answers.

"Well then," Simmons says slowly, looking through the open tabs for any good options… no such luck. "Why don't we just make her a super suit then? Like the one we made Mike Peterson."

Fitz shrugs, not wanting to talk more about the still-too-recent recovery of Coulson from Centipede. "Yeah. But why can we make May a suit as her present but I can't just take the ounce off Ward's night-night gun as his?"

Simmons rolls her eyes at him. "Because the gun is part of our job, we're making May a suit simply because we want to."

"Fine," he grumbles, reaching over to find their bowl of pretzels empty. "What d'you say we take a lunch break?"

"But we only have Ward's present left to figure out, it'll only take a moment." Simmons says. Typical Fitz, always looking for food.

"Do you really think it'll only take us moment to figure out a present for Ward?" he shoots back, raising an eyebrow.

Simmons closes her laptop and sighs in defeat. It's not her fault that she and Fitz will take forever to agree on a present for Ward, or that he finished all the snacks on the bed by himself and left her hungry. Fitz is already off the bed and she holds her arm out for him to pull her up, he lets her out the bunk first and follows her to the kitchen.

For Christmas, Ward gets the extra ounce off his gun.

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